Goddess (33 page)

Arafanz interrupted his confused thoughts. ‘Strap them to camels, rope their hands beneath the beasts’ bellies. We ride for the fortress. And
free that hawk. I don’t want the Spur laying claim to anything from my desert.’

Herezah’s face was still ashen. She was curled up tightly on a divan, hands around her knees, trembling. She had not slept, she had not eaten, she had not so much as washed her face or changed her clothes. Her robes were dishevelled and her hair fell in straggled clumps around her tear-stained face. Pots of tea cooled around her, untouched. All servants had been banished and she refused all messages. She had cut herself off to think but she had done no thinking; instead she had cocooned herself in the silence and her mind had gone blank with shock. She knew the Elim guarded her outside but they would not be able to protect her against the might of the Galinseans. King Falza was coming and from the terrible stories she’d heard of their barbaric enemy, he would look forward to seeing her head presented to him on one of the Zar’s solid silver plates. She began to imagine how it would feel to be beheaded. How long did one’s senses last? Long enough to register that the body was no longer attached? Would she be able to see for a few moments? Hear the glee of her executioners, perhaps? She gave a low moan of despair as the door opened.

‘Valide Zara, it is Bin,’ her servant whispered. He was the only one brave enough to risk her wrath. ‘May I come in, please?’

‘Have you found him?’ she croaked.

The secretary hurried to bow before her.

‘Well?’ she asked, not even bothering to raise her head. She knew what the answer was going to be.

‘He is nowhere in the palace, Highness. I have Elim combing the city now.’

‘I know Salmeo too well,’ she groaned. ‘He would have worked out his escape route and method long before he executed his plan. I just don’t understand his behaviour. Why did he do this?’

Bin surprised her by sitting on the floor near her feet so he could look into her face. She flinched but didn’t pull away.

‘Valide Zara, may I be candid with you?’

‘Were you with my son?’

‘Always.’

‘Then speak your mind, Bin, for I have no-one else to offer advice, no-one else to seek counsel from. You are young but you are all there is.’

He nodded gently. ‘May I suggest that the Eunuch Salmeo was likely scared of you, Valide. Until recently you were equals—if anything, he held the balance of power in the harem, I suspect, while you held the balance of power outside of its walls because of your connection to the Zar. You were, in effect, each other’s counterbalance.’

‘That would be fair to say.’

‘But when you were made Valide Zara, the balance was upset. Suddenly you had genuine
power. I imagine he felt nervous. I have no doubt there are secrets within the harem that we, on the outside, will never be privy to. Perhaps Salmeo was anxious they remain that way.’

She was intrigued and surprised by how helpful this servant was. She could imagine that his bright, quick mind put him in a position to do much to harm her cause if he had chosen to.

‘Bin, why are you so loyal?’

‘Pardon, Valide Zara?’

‘You heard me. I was just thinking how odd it is that you have so easily transferred your loyalties from my son to me when I am likely not someone you would normally feel beholden to in any way.’

As she expected, he understood completely her underlying message from what she wasn’t saying. He sighed.

‘Be honest, Bin. We could all be dead tomorrow.’ She laughed mirthlessly.

He did not so much as twitch at her dark humour. ‘Valide Zara, I am loyal to the Crown. Since I began working directly with Zar Boaz I have seen that, despite some of your more questionable decisions, you too care about the Crown, about the realm and its longevity.’

‘And I have a strange way of showing it—is that what you’re not saying, Bin?’

‘All that matters, Valide Zara, is that I will do whatever is required to protect the throne. Right now, you sit that throne, so everything I can do is
at your disposal. I will serve you with due respect and with honour.’

‘And you will do whatever I say?’

‘No, Valide Zara, I will do whatever I believe Zar Boaz would wish me to do. I hope that doesn’t mean you will now have my throat slit—you did ask me to be honest.’

She smiled genuinely. ‘I did indeed. So what are we going to do? Tomorrow the Galinseans will arrive in our harbours. And the day after tomorrow they begin their killing.’

‘You cannot be here, Valide. We must secure your safety in the morning.’

‘No, I refuse to run. Get the girls out of the harem. Make arrangements for them to be farmed out to families. They must blend into the population, not be noticed by the Galinseans. Their fate, if they are discovered as the Zar’s women, will be hideous.’

‘Valide, I think we have to accept that the fate of every Percherese is hideous to contemplate under Galinsean rule.’

‘No! King Falza made it clear. He will spare the people, whom he believes are innocents forced to follow their Zar’s ways. His targets are the palace people closer to the Zar, his relatives, his confidants. You, for instance.’

‘I also refuse to run,’ he said calmly. ‘I took an oath for my Zar. I shall keep it, whatever the cost.’

Herezah could have kissed him for his loyalty. She didn’t expect many others beyond the Elim to
show such fortitude. ‘Thank you, Bin.’ She hadn’t expected such genuine appreciation to feel so good, or to prompt her aide’s soft smile. ‘Let everyone know. I don’t care who flees. But we can offer no protection if people choose to leave the city boundaries. I will need to speak with the Head of the Protectorate. Without Spur Lazar I fear we are lost but we must go through the motions—although, between you and me, I don’t anticipate allowing all our soldiers to die. It’s pointless. We are no match for the Galinseans.’

‘We could, of course, fight back, Valide Zara. We outnumber them significantly. Weight of numbers could prevail if we can protect our harbour.’

‘You really are a surprise, Bin, aren’t you? Fight back? I don’t know anything about our military ability other than its loyalty to the Zar and especially the Spur. Well, I shall ask Captain Ghassal for I won’t be held responsible for carnage. I do feel this war is lost before it even begins. I’m sorry to sound so defeated but I…’ Her voice trailed off and she looked at Bin, embarrassed.

Bin nodded. ‘I know.’ It didn’t take a mystic to see that all the fight had gone out of the Valide Zara after today’s atrocity. ‘I shall fetch Captain Ghassal personally and immediately, Valide Zara. And the Grand Master Eunuch?’

She shook her head dejectedly. ‘Unfortunately, it seems he has been too cunning this time. We have no resources to use against him.’

‘He should be made answerable for this. He alone provoked war. You thought you were brokering a peace.’

‘Falza saw only his dead wife on a royal barge of Percheron. The fact that the poison was meant for me seems somehow lost on him.’ Herezah’s hand shook as she reached for a cup of cold tea to sip. ‘Where Salmeo would escape to is anyone’s guess. Do we even know where he is from? My understanding is that he came to the palace as a very young child.’

Bin gave a disappointed shake of his head. ‘I’m afraid not, Valide Zara. It was so long ago that no-one remembers. I checked our library records though, and it seems the eunuch is ahead of us. The particular book that recorded the purchase of slaves for the year of his arrival at the palace is gone.’

‘Stolen?’ She gave a small gasp of despair.

Bin shrugged. ‘We have to assume so. He has thought of everything.’

‘But that means he must be returning to his birthplace. Why else would he bother stealing the records?’

‘You are probably right, Valide Zara, but we shall never know where that birthplace is. Unless we can find the slaver who bought Salmeo as a child.’

Herezah nodded miserably. ‘Salmeo has to be sixty summers, possibly more. That means his slaver is likely dead.’

‘Let me try, though,’ Bin offered.

‘Go ahead. It could, of course, be his way of sending us on a donkey chase. He is cunning enough to steal those records purely to make us think one way whilst he goes another.’

‘I shall send the captain up immediately, Valide Zara.’

‘And then we must get the girls out. I would give anything for the benefit of the Spur’s wisdom right now,’ Herezah said, standing. ‘But we must do this alone, Bin—you and I.’

‘I shall gladly stand by your side and face whatever we must, Valide Zara,’ Bin said, bowing.

How death felt suddenly so honourable was beyond her but Herezah felt inspired by his words. She wished her son and Lazar could see her now. It was a pity she would likely be dead before either of them returned.

Lazar, Boaz and Ganya had ridden uncomfortably strapped to the camels. Finally the beasts stopped and lowered themselves, knees bending neatly into the sand. Warm golden grit was stirring in small angry eddies around the imposing fortress walls and Lazar was glad of the shield of his headdress. The sky had already begun to lighten and despite the precariousness of his situation, Lazar felt his hopes surge that he would at last see Ana again.

Arafanz walked up to him and Lazar refused to show how stiff he felt from the ungainly hours of travel. ‘Welcome to my home,’ the rebel said. Although the words were gracious, his tone was anything but sociable. ‘You’d never have found me. You must admit, we blend too well.’

‘It’s certainly impressive and from a distance, yes, you’re right, the structure is easily missed. But don’t fool yourself, Arafanz, I knew precisely where we were coming.’

‘I can’t imagine how.’

‘Nor will you ever know.’

‘You must be desperate to see her,’ Arafanz baited.

‘I am desperate to return her to her husband, the Zar.’

‘I know you lie, Lazar. I can see in your eyes how you feel about Ana—and I understand. She is not a young woman any man could easily forget.’

If Lazar’s hands had not been tied he was sure he would have attacked the arrogant man standing before him. ‘I will die before I let you keep her.’

‘Excellent. Your death is desired.’

‘Be assured, Ana belongs in Percheron. That is where she will be returned.’

The rebel sighed. ‘It will have to be over my corpse then,’ he said and smiled, genuinely this time. Lazar understood how rare that expression must be on his otherwise grave countenance.

‘That would be my intention,’ Lazar replied.

Arafanz barked a small laugh. ‘You’re amusing, Spur. No weapon, no camels, no sense of where you are or which direction to head in, no food, no water, but you’re still going to rescue Ana, kill me, somehow navigate your way around my dozens of men, and escape
plus
get yourselves back safely to Percheron?’ He began to clap, a new look of irony on his face.

‘Something like that,’ Lazar said.

‘I should just kill Ana now in front of you and release you from your pathetic delusions.’

‘You could, but you won’t,’ Lazar said.

‘And why not?’

‘Because you’ve already revealed yourself to me, Arafanz. You’ve told me so much more about yourself than you intended. I know what motivates you now; I know how you feel about Ana and about her husband. Whatever happens, you are not going to kill Ana. She is your whole reason right now for breathing and it has nothing to do with how your heart reacts towards her.’

He watched the rebel’s eyes narrow and knew he was right. So Iridor was correct—the rebel was not as ruthless as he liked to imagine. Ana had possibly stolen his heart. Lazar had to bite back the groan of anger that rose in his throat at the notion that this man had touched Ana, had probably won some affection from her.

Arafanz gave Lazar a withering glance before motioning one of his men forward. His leader spoke to him in a language the Spur did not understand. ‘Take the woman, put her in a holding cell.’ He turned to another. ‘Put the young one behind the camels until I call for him.’ Boaz was manhandled away from Lazar, who tried to reassure him with an encouraging glance, whilst Arafanz signalled to a third minion. ‘Bring Ana out.’

Lazar heard Ana’s name and felt his insides clench with fear. If Ana showed recognition of Boaz, all was lost; the Zar’s blood would be spilled in moments, staining the sand where they stood.
He looked at Ganya being led away and was proud of the way she threw him a look of courage. Her expression begged him to stay strong. He didn’t really understand her defiance. To him the situation felt lost.

Iridor hid behind one of the many boulders that made up the rooftop of the fortress and watched keenly in the dim pre-dawn light as Arafanz’s men led Ganya away. He felt sick to his wingtips. Something had gone badly wrong. One of Arafanz’s many lone riders must have stumbled upon the group. He wondered how much Arafanz knew of Boaz; he suspected not as much as he needed to know or the young man would already be dead. So perhaps the Fayiz ruse was still working for them?

Where was Maliz? And Salim? He felt the chill of fear grip him. Were they dead? Maliz could not be killed! But where was he? Lazar would hardly have left him to perish in the desert; as much as the demon meant harm to them, the Spur was wise enough to keep enemies close. Had the impostor escaped? He couldn’t risk a link to Lazar, not yet.

Iridor looked at Boaz. He was surprised by the young man’s calm and it was only then that he noticed that the Zar’s clothes were bloodstained. Fresh fear coursed through him. He saw Ganya swing around and throw a look backwards to Lazar. Ganya was now his only chance. He had to hope
they took her to the cells in the bowels of the fortress that had first held Ana. It was still dark enough for him to move relatively unnoticed but once the sky lightened fully he would have to disappear and hide. It wasn’t the humans so much as the hawks that were the greatest danger to him.

He moved with stealth, hopping down from level to level as best he could using the cover of the relative darkness of the morning. He waited and, as he had guessed, Ganya was pushed into one of the dark holes that passed as holding cells. He tapped at the bars of her cell until she turned and saw him. She ran at the tiny window and grabbed his foot. He knew to wait while she found her inner peace.

Soon enough Ganya’s voice entered his head.
We were set upon by his men. My father was slain.

Oh Ganya, forgive us his death
.

I refuse to think about his murder right now. We must survive before we mourn him.

Where is the Grand Vizier
?

Dead.

He can’t be!

I saw his corpse.

Arafanz killed him
?

No. Fayiz, the boy. Stabbed him because the Grand Vizier apparently made an improper advance on him.

What?
he stammered.
What sort of advance?

I don’t know. The youngster was in shock. All he would say was that the Grand Vizier wanted to enter
him. Fayiz reacted angrily to his manhood being threatened. He stabbed him just moments before they were grabbed by Arafanz’s men.

No, no, no! This is not right. It can’t be.

There’s more. I think they’re bringing the Zaradine out. The leader, Arafanz, obviously wants to humiliate Lazar as much as possible. He might kill him while she watches or slay her before him. But Arafanz is suspicious of Fayiz. He may just want to kill the lad in front of all of them. He’s certainly ruthless enough; he killed my father in front of me.

Ana’s going out there?

I’m guessing; I don’t know for certain.

Hold this link. I can’t risk that we are heard
.

She frowned.
By whom?

I’ll explain all soon. For now, keep me safe. I have to speak with Ana.

How?

In the same way, through you. Ana!
He called.
Ana, it’s Iridor
.

Iridor!
Her voice suddenly called into both of their minds.
Where are you?

There’s no time. Ana, listen, you’re being taken outside, am I right?

Yes, I’m just being led out of the doorway
.

Don’t recognise Boaz, whatever you do.

Boaz! The Zar is here?
She sounded terrified.

He is posing as an aspiring soldier. A servant to Lazar. Whatever you do, don’t bow to him, don’t give him eye contact, don’t recognise him as your husband.
If you do that he is as good as dead. His name is Fayiz. Can you remember that?

Yes, but I’m confused
.

Remain that way. It will protect you
.

What about Laz…
And then her words stopped dead.

She’s seen him
, Ganya said, across the link.
Go watch. Be our eyes.

Iridor hopped away and launched himself quietly, flying effortlessly and silently behind the cover of the fortress to reach the rooftop again.

The wind was gaining strength around them. The eddies of sand had turned into much larger swirling spirals. They could hear the sands shifting and blowing in the distance, though it was still rocky enough to feel protected.

‘Do you know what this is, Spur?’ Arafanz asked.

‘I can guess.’

‘It is early. It should not be here yet.’

Lazar decided if the man was so motivated by his faith, then it wouldn’t go astray to try and unnerve him by trying to find his spiritual weakness. ‘I’m told the Samazen answers to Lyana.’

‘What would you know about Lyana, Lazar?’

‘More than you, obviously—the great desert wind is her weapon. Does it not occur to you that you have angered your Goddess, for the Samazen to be blowing so early?’ Again Arafanz stared at
Lazar, unblinking, weighing him up. Lazar refused to cower beneath the penetrating gaze. ‘Perhaps you should be thinking about how you’ve offended her. The wind sounds very angry indeed and this has only happened during the short while since our arrival. In the time we’ve stood here discussing it, it’s become worse.’

Arafanz turned away. ‘Here comes Ana,’ he said coldly. He had to raise his normally quiet voice to be heard above the wind’s noise, which had elevated itself from a wheeze to a constant groan.

If Lazar had hit upon Arafanz’s weakness, the rebel had hit upon Lazar’s. At the mention of Ana everything went out of his mind—even the death that seemed so close became meaningless. His attention snapped away from his captor to the woman who had appeared from a doorway, flanked by several dark-robed adversaries. She was huge with child; her normally svel te frame was bloated and round; her normally graceful movement had assumed a slightly rolling gait. Her hands moved to her belly in support and even those hands looked swollen. But her face—her beautiful, achingly sweet face—had not changed. It was slightly plumper perhaps but somehow it suited her and despite her incarceration these last eight moons, her complexion reflected a healthy glow from the torch flames and her golden hair glinted softly in the dewy early light.

Lazar’s heart felt as though it lurched in his chest, as though it was straining to meet her. He
would give anything—anything—to hold her, no matter the consequences. But this situation was so fraught with danger, to move would be risking her life as much as Boaz’s. He remained as still as a statue, simply drinking in her beauty, as he thanked Lyana privately that his Ana was still alive, still safe.

‘Not quite how you remember her, Lazar, eh?’

‘I suppose I should be grateful to you for keeping her well. She certainly looks hale.’

‘I did more than that. I kept her safe, which is more than any of you could do,’ Arafanz replied.

It was as he listened to the rebel’s caustic response that Lazar noticed how the sand swirled up and around but never touched Ana. The cones and eddies of sand raced over the boots of her minders and sometimes blew high enough to make the men blink but Ana walked untouched through the tiny maelstrom. And now, as he watched this strange phenomenon, he realised the sand was stirring more angrily around them all. He could feel his face beginning to sting, his fingers being whipped by the grains as they whisked by. Even his normally loose trousers were beginning to flatten against his legs as the wind picked up.

‘She looks every bit the Zaradine,’ was all Lazar could say as Ana finally drew close enough for him to see the soft green of her eyes. They were filled with tears but she blinked them away hurriedly.

‘Ana, I’m sure these people need no introductions,’ Arafanz said.

‘Hello, Lazar,’ she said, her gaze riveted upon him, her voice trembling slightly. ‘I knew you would come.’

He bowed formally. ‘Zaradine Ana, it is very good to see you safe.’

She put both hands either side of her belly. ‘We are both well.’ A smile ghosted across her lovely face. ‘I’m sorry that you are here. It does not bode well for you.’

‘That is as it may be, Zaradine. But this is my duty.’

‘How touching,’ Arafanz interrupted, sneering at their forced politeness. ‘Why don’t you tell her how you truly feel, Lazar, this may be your last chance,’ he goaded.

Lazar refused to be drawn, kept a grim silence, his gaze unwavering on Ana and the belly that held the new prince of Percheron. He prayed the baby would stay cocooned in her womb for now. With the arrival of the Samazen, he had no idea how he would protect the three of them—four, including Boaz. Guilt stabbed in his chest that he hadn’t included Ganya in his plan. She deserved more.

‘Ana, I have someone else I want you to meet.’ Arafanz called across to his men, ‘Bring the young one,’ before he returned his attention to her. ‘I’d like you to tell me who this is.’

She looked at him dubiously, then back to Lazar.

‘Say nothing, Lazar, or I will kill the youngster right before you.’

Lazar’s lips pursed. He was tr apped. All he could do was stare at Ana and hope her normal perceptiveness picked up the peril they faced. He felt sick when Arafanz put an arm about her and tenderly kissed the top of her head. ‘Who is this that you see coming out from behind the camels? Don’t be scared, just tell me the truth.’

‘Is this one of your trick questions?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘You’re not going to ask him to prove his loyalty or—’

‘Nothing like that, but this is important. Ah, here he is. Do you know this person?’

Boaz was brought close and Lazar looked down, his insides twisting with fear and helplessness. Lazar decided he could kick, perhaps bring down one or two men before he was felled but that would not save Zar Boaz from the evil blade of Arafanz. To his surprise and small relief, the young ruler knelt before Ana. No-one could ever accuse Boaz of too much pride, nor could they say that if he perished here it was because of his own stupidity. Boaz had done everything he could to protect the ruse.

‘Zaradine Ana,’ he said, bowing his head.

‘Say no more, boy,’ Arafanz warned. He looked back at Ana. ‘Tell me, my dear, who is this?’